by K. M. Liss
“Thanks, Fin.”
“Anything I can do for my Princess is an honour,” he drawled, and then he winked flirtatiously. The name Princess had stuck from our first conversation seven months ago. Tongue in cheek he'd asked me if I was related to the royal family. I'd been well educated at a private school and surrounded by similar crystal accents all my life. I'd honestly never noticed my posh voice until Finlay drew my attention to it. But from then on, I was very aware that compared to the rest of my street kin, I stuck out like a sore thumb when I spoke.
He took a long chip off the pile and nibbled it slowly while I chain stuffed mine in my starving mouth without even stopping to chew them. I'd probably give myself a stomach-ache by eating so fast but I just couldn't stop.
I gorged myself on the chips and greasy chicken, murmuring satisfied mmm sounds every few seconds. Little moments of pleasure such as this, the chocolate milk and time spent in Finlay's company were the things that kept me going. Although he was still young, he had an air of worldliness about him and I felt so safe when he was around. All the pressure of being me disappeared. He effortlessly fixed things and had the answers to everything that caused me trouble and frustration. For a well educated person, I often failed miserably with the basics in life. But at least I was trying, and slowly learning the lie of the land.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed movement in the gloom. A hunched up silhouette approached. Gouty came into view, hobbling painfully slowly down the alley towards us with a bin bag in each hand. Gouty was the old drunk with chronic gout who occupied the patch next to ours. Unfortunately he stunk to high heaven, although it seemed I had grown accustomed to it. He sat down on his patch, eyeing my chips. He was drooling, smacking his lips and swigging from a litre bottle of cider. Although he was dirty and I didn't like the thought of him touching my meal I couldn't be so mean as to ignore him. I leaned over and held out the plate.
“Would you like a couple?” I asked, with a sweet smile. With lightning speed, his grubby hand shot out and he snatched a large fistful. Open mouthed with surprise I leaned back, moving the plate out of his reach, before he took any more.
“Do you mind?” I muttered, indignantly.
“Oi, Gouty you greedy fucker. They're for Princess. You're lardy enough, you old git,” Finlay snapped at him.
“Tough shit,” Gouty grunted, giving us the one finger salute, stuffing his mouth chock full of hot potato.
Finlay and Gouty glared at each other angrily. I could feel the bad vibes in the air – tempers were about to fray.
“What? I'll give you some tough shit you won't fucking forget.” Finlay started to get up.
But I didn't want to be the cause of a fight. I hated bad feeling, conflict and aggression. I'd been on the receiving end of it enough times.
I quickly put my hand on his arm, “Fin, no... please? It's just a few chips, that's all. Look there's plenty left. Sit down, eh?”
Finlay looked at me, reconsidering. “Actually, she's right. You're not worth bruising my knuckles over.” And he settled back at my side, his warm jean covered leg resting against mine.
“Clear-off-n-leave-me-the-hell-alone-you-kids... go... scram...” Gouty grumbled and hunkered down in his jumble of stinking rags and ripped bin bags. I actually felt sorry for the old bastard. He suffered so much pain, the way he hobbled along wincing with each step made me wince along with him.
“Some people, eh?” Finlay flashed a hot grin at me, seeing the humour in the situation and I grinned back with pleasure, our neighbourly conflict instantly forgotten.
I munched a few chips and popped another few in Finlay's mouth.
“You 'av the rest. I've already eaten mine on the way back.”
“Okay, but take one if you want one. So where were you? Did you have a good time last night?” It was such a stupid question. I instantly wished I hadn't asked it.
“Yeah, ‘course I did. Real cool,” he replied, looking up in the air and at the ground and everywhere but at me.
He was lying through his teeth. There was no way he had had a real cool time. I knew what he did to survive. He sold himself. In looks alone, he was the archetypal rent boy. I worried like hell over his safety. There were a lot of sick bastards in the world. I'd experienced some of that first hand. But the kind of perverts and weird punters that he probably had to deal with - the ones who got their rocks off in depraved and scary ways – really worried me. But on the whole, it wasn't my business what Finlay was, or did. His life was his life to do as he pleased. Nothing he did would change the fact he was my best friend in the world and the only one I could trust. But I couldn't help fearing for him. I prayed that none of those monsters harmed this lovely human being at my side. I think I'd kill them if they did.
“Get that lot down ya and we'll get us a room at The Hatfield for the night.”
“For real?” My eyes opened wide with surprise. Finlay had never done that kind of thing before. Excitement surged through me, along with raging curiosity. How could he afford it? The Hatfield was a decent, but basic little hotel nearby. It was well known you could get an ensuite room with breakfast, for thirty five a night, per couple. But Finlay never had that kind of cash to spare.
“Yeah, for real. I'm gonna scrub your back for ya. And then you can scrub mine. How's that for an offer you can't refuse?”
“You're on. Oh my God! An actual hot bath! Can we have some bubbles and soap too?” I was excited and getting carried away, and spending even more of his money.
“I guess I can afford some extras on top. I earned a whole ton today.”
I furrowed my brow. “What's a ton?”
“A ton is one hundred fucking quid, my girl!” He looked mightily pleased with himself.
My eyes opened wide with surprise. “But Fin... what the hell did you do to earn that amount of money?” I asked in a concerned tone of voice.
“Best you don't know the deets.” He gently tapped my nose on the end with his fingertip. “Not for delicate royal ears.”
I stopped consuming chips and stared at him for a moment, pursing my lips and raising my eyebrows disapprovingly. “Oh really? And I'm not that delicate actually.”
“Mmm, could have fooled me, Princess Inn...o...cent.”
“Excuse me? Look, I really don't like you putting yourself in dan―” He silenced me with a finger.
“Save it. Anyways ... see what else I got ya.” With a sly smile he slowly pulled a bottle of diet coke from his inner jacket pocket and popped it between my knees. “A drink for my ladyship.”
“Oh! Now you're really spoiling me.” He knew I was completely addicted to coca-cola. Not that bad an addiction to have, teeth aside. But then, my heart surged with love, as he placed a tiny satsuma orange on my leg and top of that balanced a pink coated chocolate mini-egg.
“There... chocolate a l'orange .. sweetness. Gotta get your calorie count up, or you'll fucking disappear, wontcha?”
It was delivered in his usual flippant, don't-give-a-damn style, but I knew him far better than that. This was a prime example of the little things he did to please me. He knew exactly how much this meant. He touched me, in a special place in my heart, that no one else could reach. My feelings ran deep where Finlay was concerned. From the moment we'd met he'd made a big impression and every day that passed by our bond grew stronger. But although we were close, our relationship was a river of raging confusion that I couldn't hope to resolve.
In one sense Finlay was like the brother I'd never had. He cared and looked out for me faultlessly. And he teased me mercilessly over just about everything, as a brother would. He was a real prankster when he got going – but in a nice way. I would always cherish his kindness and loved him dearly simply for being in my life. He was in his own way, a true gentleman. And I loved that. I loved his fierce protectiveness – the way he leapt so readily to my defence. I loved his wicked sense of humour. I loved the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. I loved the little tick in his cheek when he was ang
ry. I even loved his disgusting foul mouth for some strange reason. There wasn't an offensive word in the known vocabulary he didn't air regularly. But getting to the crunch, if he'd been straight, I'd have loved him in every way I possibly could. I'd have drowned in his love, immersed myself in him and never wanted to resurface. Actually I was drowning in him, but not the whole nine yards I'd have liked.
My heart actually fluttered when he was near. I knew what I wanted. I wanted more. Much more than just his friendship and his company.
But he was gay. I was a girl. And therein lie the rub.
Up till now I'd managed to keep my feelings for him hidden deep inside. I was an expert at that – at hiding things. I'd kept big secrets from everyone for years.
“So there you go... a three course dinner under the stars. And a night in a soft bed, all clean and toasty.” A broad smile lit up his face and with it a flame of joy ignited in my heart. I had no right to brood or feel miserable after all he was doing for us. But it was hard not to think about what he might have gone through for this very expensive treat. I didn't want him to sell himself to keep us going. It made me feel so angry, useless and desperate at times – that neither of us could get a regular job anywhere. We had a fair degree of intelligence and ability between us and a lot to offer. But it seemed prospective employers only saw what they wanted to see, that being homeless meant we were incapable of an honest days work and would be trouble somehow.
I pushed my bad thoughts to one side. There was no point going over and over something I had no control over.
We were going to enjoy tonight. This was a night in a million. No more dwelling on life’s negatives.
I opened the coke bottle absorbing the delightful fizzing sound as the air escaped. I took a sip and the bubbles flew up my nose in a rush.
“Mm mm. What can I say? You're an absolute prince, Fin.”
He leaned forward and kissed me on the mouth. He'd kissed me plenty of times before, but never on the lips. My heart flipped all over the place, almost singing with happiness and the pleasure of his soft, warm touch. Hope surged inside me like a phoenix rising.
“A prince? Nah. I’ll always be a frog,” he snorted a cynical laugh. “But you'll find your prince one day, Princess. An' he better be someone who deserves ya and treats ya right – or else the fucker'll have me to deal with.” He ruffled my hair so it fell all over my face. “And I mean that.”
I tried to smile as my joy shattered into a million little pieces of hurt.
I didn't want any old prince. I wanted this frog.
Chapter 3
We stood on Westway at Paddington, arguing over bubble bath. I leaned against the window of the Bath & Body Superstore, a store that sold everything you could think of, super cheap.
“But Fin ... please? I never go shopping. Let me choose it myself.”
“Trust me. I know what girls like.”
“How on earth can you know that?”
“I have two sisters. Believe me, I know all about girls bath stuff.” He'd never told me that he had two sisters before.
“You have sisters? What are their names?”
“Does it matter?”
“Not really, but I'm interested, Fin. You never speak about your family or where you're from.” The second the words were out of my mouth I wished them back. Finlay picked up the thread instantly.
“Well neither do you,” he challenged, fixing me with a hard stare.
“I know... ” I admitted. I dropped my gaze to the pavement and chewed my lip. Although sharing my past might possibly help me feel better, it was an emotional minefield to me. Talking about where I was from would only bring all those bad things back to life again. My past was much too raw and painful to drag back into the present.
He tipped my chin up, his eyes searching mine. “Look, it's okay Kate. I get it. You ran away from home, like me. And there must have been a good reason. If you wanna tell me something – then tell me, but if you don't – then don't. No pressure, right?”
“Maybe I will sometime...”
“Whenever you’re ready, okay? And for your information, my sisters are called Maggie and Melanie. They're twins. Evil bitches the pair of them. They tortured me every fucking day of my life,” he said with a long sniff of distaste.
“Well that's a shame.” I touched his arm in sympathy. “How did they torture you, Fin?”
“Every way they could think of. They hated boys.”
“Oh dear, that’s so sad. But at least you have sisters, even if they're the instruments of the devil. I don't have anyone. It can be very lonely being an only child, you know? So are the evil bitches older or younger than you?”
“Older – they'll be twenty one next month.”
“Do you ever see them?”
He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Don't be daft. No I fucking don't.”
“What about any other relatives? Your Mum and Dad?”
“Don't know me dad and don't give a damn about me mum – and it's mutual – end of discussion. Now I'm going to be five minutes in there.” He cocked a thumb over his shoulder. “It's a surprise so don't you dare sneak up behind me and fucking spoil it, okay?” His jaw had that determined set to it. He meant business.
“Okay,” I huffed, resigned. One thing I'd noticed about Finlay was that as well as being very secretive, he was very, very stubborn. He turned to go inside the store, and then turned back.
“Oh, there's summat I need to know, before I go.”
“What's that?”
“Gotta favourite colour?”
I gazed into his eyes. Eyes I loved more than he could ever know.
“Blue,” I murmured, transfixed by their sapphire beauty.
“Right-i-o. Stay there and don't move an inch, okay? Stick your arse on the ground and look needy while you wait. It's busy round 'ere. You never know, you might even earn a few quid.” He turned and strode off purposefully.
I really didn't feel like begging. I'd begged quite a lot today. I'd been moved on several times, been ticked off by the police, got shouted at by an irate shop owner and received the sum total of fifty pence for my efforts, which I'd already spent on the milk.
I huffed and tutted with resentment, then slid down the window obediently, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Finlay did a lot worse than this to earn money, and a lot of it got spent on me. I really had no right to complain about five minutes sitting on the pavement. Reaching inside my bra I pulled out the piece of paper I kept there. I unfolded it and placed it on my crossed legs. In black marker pen it read, “I am homeless and hungry – and NOT substance addicted.”
I held out my hand and gazed blindly through the sea of legs that passed my field of vision, not expecting any response to my genuine plea. I used to feel embarrassed doing this, but now I didn't care. I was invisible to most people anyway. Ignored and unnoticed. Now and then I had the odd hater who verbally abused the hell out of me but even that went over my head. Those who donated a few pence and spoke kindly to me were my guardian angels. I was so very grateful to them simply for noticing I was there.
My eyes adopted a lazy stare, blurring as I daydreamed. Suddenly a small hand flashed past my face and a coin was placed in my palm. I stared at the twenty pence and up to the young boy who had donated it, now running back to his mother. She was pushing a bright pink stroller in which sat a sweet baby girl dressed in matching bright pink. The little boy waved as he left.
So damn cute. So damn lucky.
I hoped I had a life like theirs one day. My dream was to have a little family of my own. In my late twenties, perhaps – which allowed plenty of time for the tide of luck to change. I mouthed 'thank you' at them and smiled broadly, my heart warming inside my chest. It was only twenty pence but it was surprising how that small gesture made me feel so good.
After that it was back to being invisible again. No more angels came to my assistance.
Finally, a lot longer than five minutes later, Finlay appeared with a carrier
bag which definitely contained more than just bubble bath.
I folded and put my paper notice away and quickly stood up. “Fin, what on earth have you bought?” I asked curiously trying to peep into the bag.
“Oh, nuffin' really... just a few bits 'n bobs for later.”
“What bits and bobs exactly?” I probed.
“C'mon Princess, let's get going.”
He hoisted his heavy back-pack to his other shoulder, hooked his free arm into mine and dragged me off at a brisk pace towards the Hatfield, a couple of minutes walk away.
Chapter 4
It was a little dark and dingy inside The Hatfield. Mainly the result of the ancient décor. We approached the reception desk, where a large middle aged man was leaning on his forearms, reading a magazine. I took in the light blue food-stained shirt, and the badge which read Manager pinned on his chest. He was munching a biscuit, spreading crumbs on the counter. I took a look around and the premises seemed clean enough on the surface, even if the manager fell short of the pristine.
“What d'ya want?” he said, popping half a biscuit in his mouth and crunching it noisly.
“A room would be nice,” Finlay said.
He looked us up and down unpleasantly, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. He obviously came to the usual conclusion, that we were homeless kids, on the scrounge for free accomodation.
“This ain't no free hostel... the nearest one's―” But Finlay interrupted him angrily.
“Excuse me, mister...we're backpacking around London, and payin' for a room.”
“Oh – well I do beg your pardon, but I get a lot of no-gooders in here – so - you both over eighteen?”
“Yeah.”
“Gotta passport?”
“What? No one's ever asked us for a passport before. We live 'ere mate! Brits through and through.”
